When the Bough Breaks
by Analyn 100
Summary: This is a companion piece to Kurinoone's Reader's Choice chapter 11: To be a Father. Draco and Damien help Harry cope after the attack on Ginny.
1. Breaking a Prince

** This is a scene filler from Kurinoone's Reader's choice chapter 11 "To be a Father" when James is talking to Harry at the Three Broomsticks, right before the closing up the nursery scene. **

Title: When the Bough Breaks

By Analyn100

Draco didn't know what he had planned- nothing really, all he knew was that he had to know for certain. He entered the Three Broomsticks, running like a drunk. The pub's sole occupants - two men sitting at a booth at the back corner - didn't even notice. He was greeted by the strangest sight he had ever seen: two untidy jet black heads –one slightly peppered grey - the younger slumped over the table. James Potter's hand was resting on his son's back, rubbing in soothing circles and for once Harry wasn't brushing it off. He even leaned ever so slightly into the embrace – James' shoulders sagging in relief at the lack of rejection.

It was true.

Draco crept foreword slowly, as though approaching a sleeping dragon, not wishing to startle him. Catching Harry off guard had always caused him great pain. Perhaps he should just turn around…growing up with Harry had taught him to respect the boy's privacy and wishes above all else. He stood staring at the scene with an aching heart, only when Damien Potter rushed in did he snap back to reality.

Even Damien, brash and impetuous as any marauder, approached the table cautiously, talking to his dad in low tones. Draco stayed by the door. He was on rocky grounds with the Potters as it was. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt a private moment.

Damien sat down and waved him over. Perplexed by the invitation, Draco followed the unspoken command without hesitation. It was only as he drew nearer that he paused to take in the scene again, his mind trying to process what he was seeing, but it was impossible. Harry's shoulders were shaking and Draco could hear something that he had only heard once before as he was coming out of a coma: it was sobbing, gut-wrenching and heart-ripping. The awful truth sent him reeling.

Harry was crying.

"Hey, mate." No response, not even a head nod. There was no attempt to stifle the tears or the sobbing, no attempt to even acknowledge his visitor. "I came as soon as I heard." He sat down, ever so hesitantly as Damien moved over to make room for him: no smart-ass comment, no 'he's my brother lecture'. It was as if someone had tilted the world on its axis.

Harry slowly lifted his head – he didn't even have the energy to sit up properly, still half lying in his dad's embrace. Harry had never looked worse. Draco almost recoiled at the sight before him. Even when he had been tortured and beaten bloody, he had still been in control of himself. But tonight, his eyes –his black eyes - were puffy and swollen, he reeked of alcohol and the tear tracks were stark against the grime on his face and dark stubble.

"You just heard about the attack?" His voice cracked, his jaw dropping slightly and his eyes bulged in disbelief.

Draco shook his head, "No, I read about the attack the day of, just no one thought to tell me about the baby." The bitterness in his voice surprised even him. He had even been about to remind Harry that HE was the godfather, he should have been told first, but the protest died on his tongue. What did that matter anymore? There would be no little Jamie Potter, no godchild for him to spoil.

"A boy. My son," Harry whispered. " Jai-" The name died on his lips, his whole face crumbling as the sobs were wrenched out of him. He didn't even protest as James pulled him into his arms. Draco and Damien watched helplessly as Harry sobbed in his father's arms. Draco had never understood how parents would welcome the sound of a crying baby. It was high-pitched, annoying and relentless, but it was a sound he would have paid every galleon in the world to hear, if only it would take his friend's pain away.

He cautiously reached a hand out to Harry's shoulder, struggling to think of something to say. But he came up empty. He could deal with an irate and angry Harry, which was familiar territory. Even a drunk and hung over Harry wasn't that unfamiliar, but an emotional Harry was uncharted territory.

He kept his hand on Harry's shoulder, while Damien climbed over the table to hold his brother's hand. If Damien's twisted face and gasp of pain were any indication, it was bone crushing. Painful though it obviously was, Damien made no move to let go. They stayed that way, huddled in an awkward group, offering silent support in the only way they knew how, for they knew not how long.

James rocked Harry in his arms, murmuring words of comfort which had little effect. James turned his gaze to his youngest son. "Damien, why did you come here tonight? At this hour? Does Mum know you're here?"

Damien nodded. "She wanted me to check on you and Harry when you didn't come home."

James nodded, licking his lips as he sighed, tightening the grip on his eldest son. "Why don't the two of you go back to Harry's place? I'll meet you there. He's going to need help in the morning. I need to check on Lily…and sleep if I can manage it. Just give me a few more minutes with him."

The boys nodded and stood up to leave. "Come on, Potter, I'll take you through the wards."

Damien's eyebrows shot up to his fringe. "You can do that?"

Draco nodded, waiting until they had left the pub to explain. "Harry was worried about Ginny being alone while he was teaching. He put a protean charm on my ring and Ginny's necklace. Mine doubled as a port key so I wouldn't have wards in my way if Ginny needed help, for all the good it did. Apparently she never got the chance to call for help." Without another word, he took the young Potter's hand and disapperated with a loud pop

They had barely set foot in the living room when Draco made a beeline for the kitchen.

"There's none here." Damien's voice broke through his mental haze. "The booze. Mum confiscated most of the bottles. She left some for Harry, but apparently not enough. He's going to have a nasty hang over, honestly drinking for over 12 hours straight."

"I wasn't looking for the alcohol and…wait did you say 12 hours? How in the hell is he even conscious?"

"No? Then what – oh." Damien's face froze in a perfect O, his voice soft and trembling. Draco had already made a large pile of baby bottles and formula that the Potters had stock-piled.

"I don't think Harry's going to want to see these when he gets home. Help me out, will you, before your dad brings him here?"

"Sure, right." Damien started on the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen, glad of something to do.

"Honestly, Potter, there would be no point to me getting drunk right now. Harry needs us and there's no way you can handle your brother drunk, let alone the both of us. He's going to need our help, to each his own."

It took them several minutes, but when the boys finished their task they stood and surveyed the kitchen table as though passing reverently by a funeral shrine. The table was covered in baby bottles, formula, a baby bath, an unopened high chair, wipes, powder, diapers….the list went on.

"Damn, how much stuff does one baby need anyway?"

"Harry bought it all in bulk." Damien was smiling. "You should have seen him. We were in the store and he had the carts overflowing – yes, two of them: one for each of us. I asked him the same question. He said he only wanted to go shopping once. So his solution was to get a year supply and never go back. He even tried to buy Ginny's lady-care things, to save her the trouble."

"Harry went down the feminine aisle?" Draco's eyes got as wide as saucers.

"Yup." Damien was grinning ear to ear now. "Apparently he got an earful from Ginny for buying the wrong type."

"Type? How many different 'types' are there?"

"No idea, but Harry got dragged to the store twice in one day. He came back blushing scarlet and cursing all things estrogen, swearing he would never set foot down that aisle ever again."

It was undignified and disdainful, but Draco couldn't help it. It was too much. The thought of his best friend and dueling partner, scarlet-faced and stuttering at the display of lady-care products was enough to send him into hysterics. He collapsed in the chair, chuckling.

Damien just managed a small smile as he began boxing up the various baby supplies.

Draco sobered up quickly at the sight. "Why don't you just magic it all away? It'll be faster, your dad should be bringing Harry soon."

"Mum said not to. She's going to donate it to a shelter or something. Anyway, I don't know how to send it through the wards, so the boxes will have to do for now."

Together they cleared a space and stowed it away just in time to hear the front door open. They could smell the alcohol before they could see the source. By the time Damien had gotten to the sitting room with a bowl to double as a makeshift emesis basin, Draco was already helping James guide a tipsy Harry to the couch.

James took a pad of paper out of his pocket and gave it to Damien. "Make sure to read that carefully. It'll help you to help him. Trust me." James kept his eyes on Harry, sprawled drunken across the couch. "Maybe I should –"

"No, Dad. We've got him. You really do need to sleep. We'll stay up with him. We'll call you if we need you."

James nodded, okay. "When his eyes change back, make sure they're not yellow."

"Yellow? Why on earth would they be yellow? What kind of magic overload causes yellow eyes?"

"No, not magic. Jaundice. If he has yellow eyes it means he's had more alcohol than even he can handle. It's a sign that he needs a hospital. It's on the list."

While the Potters had a parting and teary embrace, Draco sat down in the chair next to the couch, back turned respectfully away and his eyes wandering around the room, at everything except his best –and only – friend.

With a parting promise to fire-call if help was needed, Damien clicked the door locked behind him and sauntered back to the chair opposite Draco.

"Come on, let's get him upstairs." Draco suggested, rising from his seat,

"No!" Damien grabbed his arms before they could touch Harry. "Dad said no. Dad said not to let him upstairs…it's too soon."

"He's not allowed upstairs, what is he a child? What's wrong with upstairs?"

"The guestroom," Damien gulped, hoping Draco would take the hint.

Draco nodded in understanding. The guestroom had been the old name for the room that was now the nursery…or perhaps it was the guestroom once again.

Draco nodded and instead took the quilted blanket from the foot of the couch and draped it over Harry's sleeping form, only to have it pulled away.

Damien held it up by way of explanation. The name "Jaime" was stitched across it in blue and pink letters, while the outer design consisted of pale yellow patterns, quittitch balls and broomsticks. It was a blanket that Mrs. Weasley had made specially for her grandchild. It was the last thing that Harry needed to wake up to. The youngest Potter – who was likely to remain so for quite some time – dropped the blanket in the now renamed guest room and came back down with a plain plaid blanket. He and Draco took opposite seats in the living room chairs, watching Harry sleep.

"Dad gave me a list of things not to do around Harry. Here." He passed it to Draco who read aloud with disdain.

"Do not allow him in his bedroom or the baby's room. Do not even call it the baby's room. Do not allow him to be out of easy reach. If he insists on being in another room for privacy, make sure the door is unlocked. Check on him in the bathroom if he's in there too long…" Draco stared at the list incredulously. "Where did your dad come up with these rules?"

"Experience. If anyone knows what Harry's going through right now, it's Dad."

That sobered Draco up at once. He nodded. How could he have forgotten that James Potter had once believed his son to be lost forever?

"Dad thinks Harry might try something drastic. Unlikely, but you never know, with the mood he's in?"

"Drastic? You mean," Draco dropped his voice down to a whisper so Damien had to strain to hear him. "You mean this is a suicide watch?" The thought was insane, only cowards took the route of suicide. Harry was many things, but a coward was not one of them.

"I don't think he'd do that – knowing how much it would hurt Ginny. I can't see him doing that, but just to be safe. I wish there was someway to snap him out of this mood." The young boy pouted, his eyes fixed on his brother's sleeping form; even in sleep he still looked tense. Even in sleep he still couldn't get any peace.

"Snap him out of it?" Draco fumed, grabbing the boy – Draco refused to think of him as a man despite his 22 years – and dragged him to the kitchen so as not to disturb his brother. "Potter, there is no 'snapping out of this'." Now that they were in the safety of the kitchen, Draco stopped censoring his voice. "It's not just some melodramatic mood. This is as real as it gets. There is nothing, absolutely nothing worse than the pain your brother is in right now. I was raised with him. I know him better than you do – yes, I do. He's had the idea of strength reinforced in him right from the start. No tears were allowed – no matter how hurt, or how sick, no sign of weakness was tolerated. None at all."

"I've never seen him this sad," Damien whispered. "Even when you were in the hospital from the Imposter's attack, Harry went after that guy. He stayed focused, on task. He had a goal in mind, he kept his mind occupied. But this…"

"Sad isn't the word, Damien, it's 'broken'. I once asked Ginny why the Imposter went after her, what he said to her. He told her 'because it would break him.' He was right. Harry's as broken as anyone can be. Harry's been trained and conditioned to hide pain. The fact that he can't do that right now, that this is the amount of pain we're able to see speaks volumes because what you see is only the tip of the iceberg. Its scares me that Harry didn't even seem to care that we were witnessing him when he's weak."

"He's not weak!" Damien shouted in his brother's defense.

"I know he's not and keep your voice down. Just hear me out, okay. I remember when we were kids, we were messing around and he fell out of the tree and broke his arm. He whimpered for a few minutes, cradled his arm, and then went to find Bella to fix it. Not one tear, not one complaint about the pain and he was only 6. That's how early it was conditioned into him."

"So what do you suggest? All I'm aiming for is to get him to smile again... and maybe forget about this for at least a few minutes." It wasn't often that Draco and Damien could be civil to each other. They tolerated each other's presence, but that in no way meant that that Damien had ever asked Draco about Harry's childhood. It was too painful a topic usually, but whatever pain came from his questions could be nothing compared to the pain Harry was in now.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I think expecting him to forget about it for any length of time is asking for the moon. At this point the most we can do is listen. We can talk with him, but think everything over before you say it. We don't need a black-eyed monster on our hands. By the way, who has his wand? I'm surprised he hasn't gone tearing off after the Orcs yet."

"He already did." Damien admitted quietly. "He took off after visiting Ginny. I was here when he came back. He was covered in blood. He had this gunk under his fingernails. I wouldn't be surprised if he tore them apart with his bare hands. I gave his wand to Dad while he was asleep. I don't know where Dad put it and I don't want to know."

Draco let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Ginny's okay, right? " He could have smacked himself on the head. Who was he kidding? Of course she wasn't alright. She had just had a miscarriage in her last month of pregnancy. "I didn't mean like…"

"Yeah, she's going to be coming home in a few days," Damien answered, pretending not to notice the poor choice of words. "She's recovering as well as can be expected."

"So what happened? How did those things get past Harry? I didn't think that was possible."

Damien shook his head. "What have you heard?"

Draco shrugged. "Not much. Mother told me that Ginny was injured in an attack. It was Black who told me about, about the miscarriage."

"They had gotten in a fight at the Burrow," Damien started, suddenly fascinated by the loose threads on the tablecloth. He just silently thanked the gods that Draco was asking these questions before Harry woke up. "Well actually Harry and Charlie got in a fight and Ginny was too mad that they wouldn't quit it. I don't even know what the fight was about, not that it matters at any rate. She didn't want to say or do anything she'd regret…" He took a deep breath, knowing that plan had failed. That was the one decision she would regret for the rest of her life. "So Percy offered to take her to her appointment instead. They got off the Knight Bus at a market along one of its stops. Ginny had a pickle craving, so Percy went to buy some. Ginny was supposed to stay on the bus – but you know Ginny, almost as stubborn as Harry. She got off the bus. When the attack started, Percy ran back to the bus to protect her, but she wasn't on it. The Orcs attacked him before he could get to her. She got bitten. The Healers cleared out the infection and administered the antidote, but it was too late…for Jaime."

A rustling sound could be heard in the next room. Harry was waking up. They walked in as Harry was pulling himself up on the couch. "Jaime? Someone said Jaime?"

Damien cursed, looking down at his trainers to avoid the eyes that were fixed on him. Draco was cursing the boy's stupidity as he brushed past him– apparently Damien hadn't read the whole list. The list ended with 'Above all else, don't mention the name Jaime', circled and underlined. Sighing, he took a seat next to his friend, wondering how much damage control he'd have to do. "Harry, what do you remember?"

"Why am I on the couch? And why are you guys?..."

Harry glanced between his brother and best friend, his heart breaking all over again as the night came back to him. "Jaime…"

Draco could see the now bloodshot red – not yellow – eyes clouding over in pain. Draco nodded. He didn't have the heart to say it.

"It wasn't a dream?"

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry took large gulping breaths as though oxygen was suddenly in short supply. Harry got up to his feet and headed towards the bathroom. Draco was going to let him go when he saw him start to stumble. He reached out and grabbed him. "Steady there, just sit down. I'll go get you a hangover cure."

"Don't want one. I'm not hung over."

"Right you're probably still drunk…guess the hangover cure will have to wait."

"No! I'm not drunk!"

"How can you not be? Your brother says you drank half the day away." Draco grunted. Trying to keep a tipsy Harry on his feet was harder than it looked.

"I wish I was drunk. Drunk people don't feel anything. I feel a lot, none of it good."

Draco and Damien watched with heavy hearts as Harry stumbled towards the bathroom. They could hear the retching and the sobbing from behind the closed door, each looking to the other for advice. Now that it had come to it, Draco wasn't sure he could handle Harry like this. He'd only ever known Harry to be an angry drunk, even he was lost now.

Before Damien could make a suggestion, Draco knocked on the door. There was no answer, taking the lack of a protest as a good sign; Draco opened the door to see Harry retching into the toilet bowl. There was some sick in the sink as well but apparently his knees had been unable to support him for very long.

Draco knelt down next to his friend and put an arm around his shoulder. "Feel any better?" He had been about to ask, 'How are you feeling?' but managed to stop himself just in time. Harry had always hated that question.

Harry stilled for a moment, then nodded. "Not quite as…sick." The effect was ruined by him throwing up again. Draco nodded, following James Potter's actions, rubbing his back as he was sick time and again. "Just get it out." Get what out, he wasn't quite sure. The sick? That was obvious. The pain, the anger, the tears…how could anyone just 'get that out'? Between sobbing and vomiting, Harry didn't have any breath to spare. When finally he released the toilet, his sobbing had been reduced to painful dry heaves. He leaned into the only means of support he had: Draco.

Once upon a lifetime ago, Draco would have made jokes about a drunken Harry clinging to him, or complained that his expensive clothes were ruined, but not now. He awkwardly draped on arm around his friend and kicked the door with his feet. Damien opened it in a flash. Draco suspected he had been listening in.

"Get me a paper bag and another bowl."

Damien obeyed, no smart remarks. No pouting, no nothing. He was back just as fast. He placed the items at Harry's feet but kept the door open and sat down, silently daring Draco to make him leave. But he didn't.

"I'm sorry, Jaime! I'm so sorry!"

Harry made to bury his face in his hands again, but Damien pulled them away. "Why are you sorry?" Damien asked. He had to nip this guilt trip of Harry's in the bud, now!

"My fault! I should have been there, I could have…"

"No, you couldn't. No one saw it coming, Harry! No one!"

"Yes, it is! Those things were no match for me. I….I finished them. All of them! I could have protected…They wouldn't have dared to touch her."

Draco watched this exchange with growing alarm. Damien was getting Harry worked up. They needed him calm. They needed to get the alcohol out of him fast, raising his blood pressure would just circulate it that much faster. "Damien, drop it! Now's not the time to fight." He turned to Harry. "Breathe into the bag. It'll help with the dizziness."

Harry did as he was told, not even noticing that for once their roles were reversed. Never before had Draco dared to give him an order.

"Sorry I didn't get here sooner. It's just…well I went looking for Alex actually."

"You went to the Muggle joints?" Even through his pain haze, Draco detected a hint of disbelief. The idea of rich, aristocratic and prejudiced Malfoy running into a Muggle pub was one that Harry couldn't quite fathom.

"Bag, Harry, breathe into the bag." With the bag repositioned to Harry's face, he continued. "I had to know, I didn't want to believe…and that's usually where you go when you want to avoid company. And that's usually what you do when you're hurting. I certainly didn't think I'd find you with your dad. You two usually don't talk about the hard stuff."

Harry took a few deep breaths into the bag and paused before talking. "I normally don't talk with Dad because Dad can't understand how I still care for someone who took me away. I don't expect him to. But this...this Dad understands all too well. He's the only one who can."

Harry took a few more deep breaths with the bag, before turning his eyes on his brother, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Damy! Do me a favor?"

"Anything!" Damien was already halfway to his feet.

"Break the curse! This stupid family curse, you've got to break it! You're going to be the first one of us to see your first child's first steps. Got it!"

Damien stilled, swallowing a lump in his throat. He could hear the desperation in his brother's voice, steady for the first time all night. How could he promise the impossible? If sheer force of will could stop this then they wouldn't be here! He didn't even bother to mention that his parents HAD seen Harry's first steps.

"Promise me!" Harry reached out suddenly grabbing hold of Damien's robes. "Promise me! I can't take any more of this shit. You have to promise!"

"I promise. Whatever it takes, I promise." He watched as the words calmed his brother down like nothing else had. His green eyes were coming back into focus, releasing his grip on Damien's clothes. "Come on, Dad's list says you have to eat, something to do with alcohol overload. Up you go. That's it. Come on."

"I'm not hungry!" But the protest was only half-hearted as Harry staggered to his feet, one arm draped over his brother's shoulder.

"You know what? Where's that list of recipes your twin gave you? You know, the only Potter who actually knows how to cook? Maybe I'll have a crack at it, if you've got any decent food around here."

"He's not my twin, he's your age!"

Draco listened to this exchange with a small, sad smile. Damien could take it from here. He followed the brothers into the kitchen, emesis basin and bag in hand. He had a feeling they shouldn't be put away just yet. They had a long night ahead of them.

He envied the Potters. He never had before, and perhaps now was a really odd time to start, but Harry had a good family now. They had good hearts and took care of each other. He, unfortunately, could not say the same. He had always known that his dad was a strict disciplinarian, unnecessarily so at times, but he had never realized how much of a bastard his father was until now.

If James Potter had even been half as emotional as Harry was right now, it was a wonder Lucius hadn't let something slip that Harry was alive. They both worked at the Ministry at the time, Lucius must have seen James. He could have ended that pain any time he wanted, and yet… How could one father watch another one grieve and not give any help at all? It struck him as odd to think of Harry as a father, but that's what he was. Forget the whole 'Father-to- be' crap. A man was either a father, or not and Harry was. They say parenthood changes everything…and so it had. It had changed everything about Harry even though he had never heard his child cry, never seen those bright baby blues. Even if he had never taken a single breath of life, that little baby boy had changed his best friend forever.


	2. Never Forget

When the Bough Breaks

Chapter Two: Never Forget

By Analyn 100

It was nearly three in the afternoon, but Draco still sat at the table, picking at the cold scrambled eggs, wondering how Damien had managed to make breakfast worse than hospital food. The boy in question was currently laying his head in what remained on his brother's breakfast plate, and the kid actually had the gall to be snoring! Well some things it seemed never changed.

Perhaps it had been the food and not the hang over that had induced Harry's second round of vomiting. He momentarily wondered how they had been cruel enough to inflict that pain on poor Harry, when he heard it. It was the sound of heavy footfalls being dragged slowly, one in front of the other. It was Harry. He was up.

Draco snapped his fingers under Damien's nose, snapping the kid out of his slumber just before Harry made his grand entrance. Draco was immediately glad that he had switched the calendar to the next month – no need to see Ginny's due date circled - and also drawn the curtains to keep out the light in an attempt to lessen the hang over pain.

Harry dragged his feet into the kitchen and with half-open eyes, collapsed into one of the chairs, before groaning and putting his head in his hands. His eyes, thankfully, were dry: puffy, red, and swollen, but dry. Apparently the dam had dried up.

Harry dug the heel of his palm into the side of his head wincing. "Ow!" The alcohol was finally catching up to him. He took a long shuddering breath and looked up at his visitors. "Long night?" he asked, trying to break the silence.

Draco nodded. What else was there to say?

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, until Harry broke it. "God, say something. Somebody, please!"

"Feeling any better?" Damien asked with a little more perkiness than was strictly needed.

Harry would have growled at him if he even had the energy. Draco had been quite proud of thinking to phrase the question that particular way. It was actually becoming even more annoying than 'How are you feeling?' which no one had dared to ask.

"Peachy!" Harry bit out viciously. "What do you want me to say? That I went out and ripped apart the monsters that ruined my life? Or maybe," Harry was loosing it, they could tell by the slurring of words and the fact that he was trying to place his cup where there was no end of the table. "Or maybe you want me to say that I drank myself into oblivion. Or maybe you want to hear that I cried until I thought I could cry no more, only to realize what a stupid idea that was. Tears are a bottomless pit, there's always more. Well, check, check and check! And I still feel like shit."

"So," Damien began slowly, "On a shittiness scale, how bad do you feel now as opposed to yesterday?"

"Shittiness scale?" Harry gaped at him for a second before laughing. It was mirthless, almost maniacal. "What do you mean by that exactly?"

"Oh you know, like a healer's pain scale. 1-10, one being no pain, 10 being the worst you've ever felt."

"Well let's see," Harry contemplated. "I'd say a 12 for this morning, or afternoon or whatever time it is."

"12?" Damien asked crestfallen. He had thought they'd been helping him, how could he still be a twelve? He'd been hoping for an eight or nine.

"Well what did you expect?" Harry snarled. "Yesterday would be a 20. Today I'm down to 12. That's not too bad, right?"

"20?" Draco and Damien shrieked.

"Well yeah, 10's supposed to be the shittiest I'd ever felt. Last night was far worse than anything else I'd ever experienced; now I'm close to the old scale."

"So what would you rank as a 10 then? Where does the old scale end?"

"When I tried to kill dad on that cliff. Well, not then. More that I felt like shit a few days later when I realized he hadn't done anything to deserve it."

"Sooo, that's a 10 and you're at a 12 now?"

"Yes." Harry was starting to wonder if his brother had gotten into his alcohol. "Any chance of getting any more booze?"

"NO!" Draco and Damien shouted in the same breath.

Drcao got up and headed to the pantry and pulled out several bottles, placing them in front of Harry. "This is what your mother brought by early this morning, thinking you'd somehow be awake before noon. We have ginger ale, sports drinks, water, peppermint tea and if you must insist on alcohol, then we have Butterbeer."

"Butterbeer? What the hell? That stuff's got like 1% alcohol. I need more than that!"

Draco shook his head. "Actually try more like .1% and no you don't. That's all you get. And you only get 2 bottles of it, on top of that. And actually, you lost a lot of fluid with your vomiting last night, so really that stuff's no good for you. You need fluids, and butterbeer will only add to your dehydration. So I'd really recommend water or sports drinks."

"Didn't I have enough of those this morning? I thought my bladder couldn't get any larger, thought it was going to explode." In an attempt to get the alcohol out of him after his drinking marathon, they had forced on him 5 servings of the most disgusting eggs he had ever tasted, not to mention the 10 drinks with not one ounce of alcohol between them. He vaguely wondered if that was anything like Ginny felt while pregnant, with the constant pressure on her bladder that she always complained about.

"For a normal drinking binge, that would have been enough. You had an epic drinking binge which means I'm just getting started. Are you going to use that ice-pack or not?"

"No! I like the pain, gives me something to…focus on, or I don't know. I just don't feel like being sober yet."

"So then no epic hang over cure that I have stashed in the pantry?"

Harry shook his head. "If I want it, I'll let you know."

"Fair enough."

Harry took a long shuddering sigh. His hands once again cradling his throbbing head, he vaguely wondered what they were going to do with the rest of the day. Appreciative as he was to have company, he really didn't want people looking at him like he was going to explode at any moment. Kind of how everyone had been looking at Ginny, asking her when she was going to pop.

I'm not going to break down. I'm not going to break down! Harry kept up the mantra, determined not to make a fool of himself again. Oh he knew his friend and brother wouldn't hold last night against him. That didn't mean it hadn't been embarrassing, not that he'd been able to stop. Come to that, why would he want to? He could tell people all day long that he was fine, and he knew not one of them would be stupid enough to believe him.

The door bell rang.

"That'll be your parents," Draco announced, heading to the door. "I told them you might be awake around this time."

Harry was about to tell Draco not to open the door, but couldn't bring himself to do it. They were worried about him, it was only natural. Perhaps they'd leave quickly upon realizing that he wasn't quite as unhinged as the day before.

Harry slowly followed Draco into the Living Room. He stopped cold at the sight of his parents. Looking at his dad was like looking in a mirror. Did his parents get any sleep last night at all?

"I thought I told you guys to get some sleep! Looks like I got more than you did!"

"We tried," his mother's voice croaked. "It was no use." His mother hurried towards him, but stopped two feet short, biting her lip as if contemplating her next move.

Oh hell, screw it. Harry just reached out his arms to Lily, who took her cue. Gathering him up in her arms, she held him and rocked him, like she had as a baby, the last time he had sought solace from her. Harry had come to tolerate her hugs over the years – standing stiff as a board as he allowed her to fuss over him. But today was the first day he'd initiated a hug – the first time in 24 years that he had sought out his mother's comfort.

"My baby. My sweet baby, I'm so sorry!" she whispered.

Oh gods no! Harry could feel the stinging behind his eyes, could feel the breath hitch in his chest all over again. He knew his mother was trying to comfort him, but why did she have to use those words? The same words he had spoken to Jaime just yesterday. Yesterday, when he had held his child for the first – and only – time.

Damien and Draco watched from the kitchen as Harry succumbed to his grief all over again. Apparently the dam had been replenished overnight. He didn't cry out for his son. He didn't apologize 100 times over. Lily was doing that for him, trying the best she could to take the pain away from him. They honestly weren't sure if she was helping him or making it worse.

James watched as his son's heart broke into 1000 pieces all over again. He could see the warning signs. The same ones he had seen last night. Harry's knees were buckling. He was taller than his mother, stronger than her. James put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "You need to sit down, son. Just sit down." So they did, kneeling on the floor, leaning up against the wall, never once letting go of each other. James sat down in front of both of them, rubbing Harry's back with his right hand, and holding one of Harry's with his left. Harry's free hand was still fisting his mother's robes. "That's it, son, just squeeze as hard as you can. I've got you. We've got you."

Damien and Draco sat on the couch, eyes on the floor. Not that they would have been able to see Harry with both parents surrounding him. They were glad they couldn't see, what they could hear was painful enough.

"How?" Harry's voice was broken and croaked, as he gently pushed his mother away, just enough to get some air. "How did you guys get over this? How is it even possible? And don't say it's because I came back. You were happy before I came back. You were happy. How? Just please, tell me how to end this. I can't take it!" He shrieked, kicking at some invisible foe. "I CAN'T TAKE IT! PLEASE HELP ME! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. PLEASE!"

He wasn't just crying anymore, he was screaming. His back arching against the wall as the cries were practically ripped out of him, struggling to break free. He was writhing in his dad's arms, trying to get away from the pain that was ripping at his heart. The pain wasn't just emotional anymore, it was physical. It was real and it was killing him.

Damien and Draco both ran over in a matter of seconds, forcing him to lie down before he hurt his head.

"Help me! Please somebody help me!"

"Get back! Just stay on the couch. We've got him." James and Lily each sat on either side of Harry, allowing him to scream. Restraining him just enough to prevent injury.

"What can't you take any more? Talk to us, Harry! We can't help you if you don't. Come on, son, help us to help you. You can do it."

But all they got in response was whimpered pleas and screams.

"Harry, please!" James' voice was breaking at the sight of his son straining to hurt himself. If only he could get into his son's tortured mind, but without Harry's help, that would be impossible.

"HELP! Help me!"

"I want to, son. I want to so badly." James felt the tears trickle down his cheek. He and Lily had promised themselves they would not break down. They had no right. Their nightmare was over, they had their baby back. Harry would never have that. Those 15 years of torment would never end for him. In 16 years, Jaime would not be found in a raid or an orphanage. He hadn't been taken away. He had been killed. There would be no end like there had been for them.

"What can't you take any more, Harry?" Holding Harry's hand stiffly and tightly so hard it almost hurt, James reached over to cup his son's face in his spare hand. "HARRY! Harry look at me!"

Draco ran out of the room and to the bathroom where he promptly threw up, Damien close on his heels. "Oh gods!" Even though the boys locked themselves in the bathroom, they could still hear the screaming.

"And here I thought it couldn't get any worse!"

Draco had never heard anyone scream like that, ever, unless they were under the torture curse and even that never last this long. Harry hadn't even screamed like that under the torture curse himself. Even then he had been focused more on Damien's safety than his own pain.

How his parents were coping with this, without breaking down themselves was beyond comprehension.

"I don't know about you, Damien, but when my wife is pregnant, I'm assigning Harry to be her personal bodyguard."

"Ditto."

"You better keep that promise, kid. I don't think they can take this again. So what do we do now?"

"Huh. Why are you calling me Damien, anyway? What happened to Potter?"

"Too many Potter people here, it gets confusing. Besides, this is no time for formalities. So, what's it going to be? Should we stay in here, go out there, leave?"

"Leave? We can't leave Harry like this!" Damien sounded scandalized.

"Look I don't know what we could do for him that your parents couldn't. And I just can't sit back and watch this. I can't be like my father! I can't sit back and just watch stuff like this. It makes me sick, literally!" He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the sink splattered with the sick as though to put the evidence on display.

Damien leaned against the door frame, trying to collect his thoughts, when Harry's scream reached their ears again. It didn't sound like Harry, though they knew it was. It sounded more like a feral howl. It didn't even sound human. He leaned against the door, letting out a long-suffering sigh, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Oh please tell me this is the bottom of that iceberg."

Damien put his head in his hands, willing himself not to break down. He didn't want to be a bother to his parents right now. Not when Harry needed their full attention.

Draco watched his best friend's little brother pull at his hair as he slid down the wall, looking far older than his 22 years. "Sweet Merlin, I hope so." He doubted it, but he didn't have the heart to tell that to Damien.

"Your brother…I can't stress how much emotions weren't tolerated in Riddle Manor. My mother, used to go to his room and comfort him after his nightmares of the abuse. My mother would try to talk to him about it, try to help him. But Voldemort didn't want that. He, he banned my mother from seeing him, banned Harry from his only source of comfort. He…" Draco ran a hand through this air and put his head in his hands, wondering how he hadn't understood this for so long. "He wouldn't talk to Harry at all about it. He gave Harry the pensieve, so he could almost forget about it. So he could remove the memories entirely. Harry was so grateful for it, for the peace. But it wasn't peace, it was torture. From that time on, that's what Harry would do. He would remove the memories rather than deal with them, because no one ever taught him how, no one ever listened. Harry never once learned how to handle pain properly. Never. When he came to Hogwarts, he wanted a relationship with his parents. He wanted it so badly. I could see it in his eyes. But then your parents denied the abuse – of course they did. They knew nothing about it. But that denial, your parents hurt him so badly without even knowing it. What he's dealing with right now, it isn't just Jaime's death, it's everything. Everything's coming at him like a tidal wave and he has no idea what to do. It's suffocating him. It's killing him."

"That's what Dad said. I wanted to go to Harry when he walked in Ginny's room. The bassinet had been brought in. He got to hold Jaime…Jaime's body just once. I saw him from the window. He knelt down on the floor, holding him and sobbing. I wanted to go to him, but Dad stopped me. He said Harry would close up if he was disturbed. He said he had to grieve or the pain would kill him."

"He wasn't wrong. Usually Harry just vents his feelings out on someone or something: daywalkers, Orcs, alcohol, passersby, punching bags and the like but he's already tried all of that and he still can't get any relief from the pain. He's usually so in control of everything, ten steps ahead of everyone else. All he knew for so long was revenge and control, those would get you power. Power was everything. I had a similar father to Harry growing up, but the difference is that I've had my mother to talk to. And we do, not as often as we should, but we do. Harry had none of that."

Damien sank to the floor, his eyes glazed over and watering. How could his brother have been hurting so badly for so long? He knew Harry still struggled with guilt, but he had never imagined…could not possibly comprehend…

"Draco? Do me a favor?

"Yes?"

"Tell me a story."

"What? Why? What are you three years old?" Draco looked startled, completely thrown by the request.

"You make it sound like Harry was miserable for his whole childhood. I know he wasn't, otherwise he wouldn't have been so eager to leave Hogwarts. So, please tell me a story of when Harry was little? A happy one! I need to hear that he had some happiness."

Draco nodded. "Come on, over here." Damien sat down next to him, only a little surprised when Draco put an arm around him. Draco looked down at the boy sitting next to him. He needed help, before he started following his brother's lead of closing out pain. Holding Harry's little brother close to his heart, he began. "So, has Harry ever told you about the time we swiped some Felix Felicis from his Father's Potions supply?

Damien stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking! You stole Lucky Potion from Voldemort!"

Draco nodded. "Well let's see, we were I think 8 years old at the time when your brother got this awesome idea. You know, he doesn't really let on that often, but he can be quite the prankster."

A few minutes later, Draco was just getting to the good part when Damien suddenly bolted upright.

"What? What is it? What do you hear?"

"Nothing! It's stopped." He let out a huge sigh. "The screaming. He stopped." Damien made to get up, but Draco grabbed his arm. "No, not yet. Give him a few more minutes, besides I have to finish your story."

Draco shut the bathroom door behind them, just loudly enough for James and Lily to hear it. They walked slowly back to the sitting room, mentally preparing for the worst.

Harry was on all fours. He had gotten away from his parents, but he had no strength left. He was panting, shaking so badly he couldn't even stand on his own to two feet. That was evident even from this distance. They sat down on the couch, afraid to interrupt, but wanting to be near if anything was needed, wanting to hear anything that might help them help Harry.

"I've got you!" James helped Harry to sit up and took a seat next to him, motioning for his wife to do the same. He took one hand in his own and nodded for Lily to take the other. They each put an arm around him. They each gave him a hand to squeeze until there was nothing left, surrounding him with their love as best they could. They had talked about this all last night, every night since the loss of their grandchild. They had agreed to do this only when he was ready to listen, otherwise the pain would be for nothing. He hadn't been ready last night. He had been so consumed by grief he had barely been aware of what was going on around him. But he was ready now, ready to listen. He was ready to accept help and they were ready to give it. They had always been ready. They wouldn't allow him to hide his face, or his pain. That was the key. He wasn't allowed to hide, not any more. "Just squeeze our hands, Harry. Release it. Give us your pain, as much of it as you possibly can."

"That won't help!" Harry sobbed. "I need to know how you got over me!" He had never wanted to know, but he did now. As painful as it might be to hear, he wanted to know more than anything because the pain couldn't be worse than this. It just wasn't possible. At least he hoped not. He kept thinking his breaking point was just one step away.

"First of all, I'm not going to talk until you look at me. Not at the floor, at me!"

Harry slowly lifted his red, blotchy, tear stained face to his dad.

"We never forgot you! You don't get over this, you get through it." Harry nodded. He had no idea what that meant, but he nodded to show he was listening. He was listening perhaps more intently than he ever had before.

"Now I want you to close your eyes and imagine that Jaime's been found."

"Dad, please…"

"I know, son. I know it hurts, but we have to do this. Now how would you feel if you could see him again in his teenage years?"

Harry swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. He imagined a boy with his eyes and unruly hair in Ginny's ginger color, a small mischievous smile lighting up his face. He would be a marauder. He knew that the boy's grandfather and uncle would see to that, would have seen to it. "Like the happiest man ever."

"And that's what you make us every day, son. You once said we had to be ashamed of you, that we would be better off if you had not been found. What other reason could there be that we did not tell Damien about you? The answer, Harry, is that we didn't want Damien to live in fear of his brother's killer. But that doesn't mean we forgot about you. We could never forget, and we would never want to. Despite everything we've been through, we have never once wished that you had not been found. We never have and never will. Getting you back was the best thing that ever happened to us.

"You will always think about him, Harry. Every time you see a boy his age, you will find yourself wondering what he would be like: what would his favorite classes be? Which House would he be sorted to? What foods would he like? What hobbies would he enjoy? Who amongst your students would be his friends? He will never be far from your mind and he will always be in your heart, but the pain will become more bearable as time goes on. Right now it feels like a knife piercing your heart. The pain will dull down, to a longing ache, but it will never entirely go away."

"It feels like someone's twisting the knife constantly, feels like I can't breathe." Harry admitted, surprising even himself.

"I know, son. I know." James assured him, softly, caressing his son's wet cheek as he had not done since his son had been in his cradle. He had longed to comfort Harry so many times over the last nine years, but Harry had always turned away…until now.

Harry turned his tear-glazed eyes to his mum. "Is that why you asked? About Quidditch that day in the potions lab? The day Dad flooded the kitchen?"

Lily nodded. "James took Damien to a Quidditch game shortly before you were found. I would always wonder whether you would side with your father or brother, or perhaps annoy them by picking another team entirely. I never dreamed that I would get my answer. I always thought about how our family could have been, how it should have been."

James took a deep breath and prayed to any god listening that he could get through this. He hadn't talked about that day since it happened, but Harry needed to hear this…all of it. Everything James had been trying to tell him for nearly 10 years, maybe now he might possibly understand.

"When you were taken, it destroyed us. You got your revenge on those Orcs, that's what I wanted. But I never got it. Revenge is not the answer. It will quell the pain for a while, but it won't last. You know that.

"You told me, on your 18th birthday that I couldn't understand what it was like in your shoes because you weren't sure you could trust your memories. You weren't sure if your father had ever loved you." This was costing him a lot, to call that monster by the title that was rightly his own, but that monster had held that place in Harry's heart for 15 years, there was no denying it. "You weren't sure how you could have thought you knew him so well and yet not really know him at all. Well I'm telling you now, that I do understand. I had the same thoughts with Peter. I still love that rat. Some part of me, however small, will always cherish the teenage memories we shared at Hogwarts. And I've wondered for years how I could possibly not have seen him for what he was. How could I have been so close to a friend that I really didn't know at all?

"In the hospital, I didn't believe Sirius when he told me you were gone. I called him crazy. I pushed him away and ran home. I misjudged the apparition distance, but that didn't matter. I ran the whole rest of the way. I convinced myself that you were gone when the paramedics arrived because a member of the Order had taken you in. I was sure if I got to your cot that there would be a letter waiting for me, telling me where I could find you. All I found was Sirius who had chased after me. He gave me a shoulder to cry on.

"For the next several months, I pursued that rat. Whenever there was a raid or a Death Eater sighting, I would take off. I wasn't interested in Voldemort, or the high-ranking Death Eaters everyone else was concerned with. I just wanted one! The lowest of the low. I wanted the rat that had stolen my baby. It didn't matter what anyone else said. I didn't matter if I got hospitalized from the injuries. It didn't matter if I got demoted to the lowest rank or thrown out of the Auror Corps. Nothing else mattered.

"Then one day. I got a tip about a sighting. I got up to leave without reinforcements. But Sirius had been at the house at the time. He managed to stop me, and boy did he give me an earful. And this part I want you to listen to closely."

Harry nodded, his eyes locking with his dad's.

"We fought. We said a lot of things to each other. But then Sirius shoved me about against the wall. He wouldn't let me go, no matter how hard I fought. He said, 'Is that what you want? To be known as the man who died avenging his son? Because that's what almost happened. And that's what will happen if you keep this up. It will kill you!' I didn't care. I told him that. He told me I was being selfish, but I didn't care. Then he told me to look at your mother, my wife. Look at me, Harry! He said, 'You promised that you would always be here for her, you promised that you would always put her first, that she was your world! You can't die and leave her behind. Think about her, first she loses her child and then her husband, is that what you want?' Then your mother told me, 'I need you. WE need you.' And that's how I found out we were expecting your brother. Your brother was our salvation."

He turned around to see Damien on the couch, only to realize that he had already made his way over to them. He knelt down next to his brother. Lily moved out of his way and made her way over to her husband, wiping tears on her sleeve as she went. Damien took his brother in his arms, their eyes fixed on their dad.

"Seven months later in the hospital, Sirius's wife at the time, Shelley…"

"Stephanie." Lily corrected. "Her name was Stephanie."

"Whatever, the thing is we were trying to think of names. She suggested 'Harry'. She said, 'Then you'll have Harry back. Won't that be wonderful?' But I told her 'No. No one takes Harry's place. Not even him.' You will never forget Jaime. But someday, this pain will be a distant memory. When you have another child – and you will, when you're both ready for it. You and Ginny want a child so bad and you will get your wish…and when you do… you will cherish that child more than you ever thought possible. You will do anything to protect that child because unlike most parents you know the pain of the loss already and you will do anything to avoid it ever again. Just don't push her into intimacy before she's ready for it. Post-pregnancy hormones can be a nightmare, especially after a miscarriage.

"You have to be strong, for your wife. I know you can do it. You're the strongest person I know. You can survive this. You will survive it. If you need to talk to a counselor no one would think less of you for it – or, you can talk to anyone here."

"He's right." Draco spoke up, joining the family on the floor, half afraid they would send him away, but James' voice had been breaking. He needed help. The whole family did, and Draco would make sure they got it, all of them.

He sat down in front of Harry, reaching out to his shoulder. "We will get you through this. Your dad's right. You need to be strong for Ginny, but that doesn't mean you can neglect yourself. If you can't help yourself, then you won't be able to help her. Helping yourself means being honest with yourself. If you're in pain, tell someone, don't hide it. That pain will eat you alive if you let it – like you've been letting it for your whole life. If you need anything at all, you let us know. I don't care how small it is. If we can help, tell us and we will." He had watched Harry as he was tormented by nightmares for almost 20 years. That ended now. He had once listened to his father, who told him to stay out of Harry's private affairs and he had. He had stood back and watched his friend suffer for far too long, but that ended today.

"So, is there anything we can get for you?"

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. "That hangover remedy sounds wonderful."

Draco shook his head. "No."

"No?" Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Oh come on, that's just cruel. I need that stuff!"

"Why, Harry, why do you need it?"

"Why?" Harry looked incredulously at him. "Because my head hurts, you git! What do you want me to say? That my head feels like its going to split after a whole day of drinking and crying? Is that what you want to hear?"

Draco gave him a wide smile. "Yes." He didn't waste time going to the kitchen. He summoned it wandlessly. "You have to learn to tell us what you want and why," he explained handing the vial to Harry. "We can't always take your subtle hints. We're not all accomplished at wandless Legilimancy, you know."

Harry shook his head ruefully at his friend's antics as he uncorked the vial and downed the contents in one loud gulp. He smiled for the first time in days, tipping the empty vial in Draco's direction as a mock toast. "And Ginny wondered why I thought you'd be a perfect choice for godfather."

The end – sort of.

I am currently writing a sequel regarding Isabelle's birth enitiled "Child of my Heart". The prologue of which is up now at Kurinoone's urging. I was going to wait a few days but I'm eager to see the reactions so….review button down below. Please?


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